


246 Minutes of Madness

by Deejaymil



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Gen, Humor, Team as Family, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8155651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deejaymil/pseuds/Deejaymil
Summary: Six profilers and an elevator walk into a bar...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [246 minutes de folie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10937247) by [Malohkeh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malohkeh/pseuds/Malohkeh)



> Written for the /r/fanfiction prompt challenge!

**-2.4 minutes**

There’s a foot-long list of adjectives adequate to describe this case, most of them beginning with ‘fuck right off, thanks’. It’s been one of those jobs that stretches on for far too long and is far too tiring for any of them to be thinking kindly of their past selves’ career choices. If that isn’t enough, the hotel is a bare half-star away from being a high-rise Bates knockoff with floral wallpaper, vividly retro carpeting, and elevators that Reid optimistically describes as ‘almost certainly structurally unsound.’ By this point, the thought of going home is overwhelming, even facing the impossible choice ahead of them: risk the tiny metal death traps or face a trek down eight flights of stairs.

Their exhaustion decides it. Their exhaustion, and the dangerously cheerful tilt to Emily’s posture when Rossi even dares to suggest the word ‘walk’.

“Three to an elevator and don’t wiggle or you’ll kill us all,” Rossi suggests with a glance to Reid, the wiggliest of them all by far. To Rossi’s dismay, after a short scuffle that ends swiftly as Aaron turns to glare at them, Reid somehow beats JJ _and_ Prentiss into the same car as Rossi and Morgan. Probably for the damn same reason as well; Aaron’s current temper could only really be described as ‘incendiary’. It’s a fair assumption to say that Reid’s greater height had given him an unfair advantage against the two women, although Rossi’s rather surprised that Prentiss didn’t simply just shoot the kid in one of his chicken-leg skinny kneecaps.

_It’s going to be a long two minutes down,_ he thinks glumly as the elevator doors groan shut and Reid immediately launches into a wearily perfunctory spiel about the statistical likelihood of dying in an elevator shaft.

He’s somewhat wrong about it being a long ride, but also so terribly right.

 

**0 minutes**

The lights flicker once, twice, and then snap off as the elevators grind to a halt.

“Fuck,” says Prentiss, and looks to Hotch.

Hotch is already pressing the alarm button with a calm, “Don’t worry, it’s probably just momentary.” JJ just sighs and reaches into her bag for her cell and a flashlight. She should have known nothing was going to go nicely today, not even going home.

Some three feet to the left of them, Rossi is swearing, Morgan is shouting, and Reid has gone very, very quiet. Finally, they look to him. Almost hopefully.

“The average time to restore power to stalled elevators is about nine hours,” he says, the first thing that comes to mind, and even in the dim light cast by Rossi’s cell, he can see their faces fall. “… sorry.”

“I vote we eat him first,” Morgan mutters. Rossi agrees. Someone’s stomach growls.

Reid swallows nervously.

 

**2.5 minutes**

The hotel manager is concerningly blasé about there being six FBI agents trapped in his elevators. Hotch frowns at the emergency phone as the shrill sound of the man arguing with his wife about olives whines through. “Any luck?” Prentiss asks, dropping her bag and perching on top of it. JJ takes a seat next to her, both peering hopefully up at him.

“I’m not sure,” Hotch admits, as the phone shrieks once and then hangs up on them. “I… think? He seems confused… and hungry.”

“Oh wonderful,” Prentiss says with an unladylike snort he twitches to imagine Elizabeth hearing. “Looks like we’re in for the long haul. Anyone know any party games?”

In the other car, Morgan’s, “I Spy—” is immediately cut off by Rossi’s, “No fucking way.” Morgan scowls, and Rossi looks to Reid for back-up. Reid wisely stays out of it and continues trying in vain to find a section of the elevator where his cell can valiantly attempt to retrieve signal.

He’s a little disappointed though. He’s always been _very_ good at I Spy.

 

**5.8 minutes**

“We’re going to die in here,” Morgan groans, curling into a ball with his head on his knees.

“I have an audiobook player in my bag,” Reid offers helpfully, making sure to smile in order to lighten the mood. “The Magic of Physics—it’s really quite fascinating!”

“Oh god, I hope I die in here,” mutters Rossi, and kicks the door. The door, unhelpfully, does not respond to his prayer.

 

**8 minutes**

“I Spy with my little eye, something beginning with H.” Emily is smug. She’s sure she’s got it this—

“It’s Hotch,” JJ replies.

Damn it.

“I Spy with my little eye, something beginning with H,” JJ says, after making a show of peering around the cramped space with the beam of her flashlight.

Emily thinks for a moment, nipping at her bottom lip. “It’s Hotch,” she says, and JJ does a double thumbs up. “I Spy with my little eye something beginning with H—”

“This is not as funny as you think it is,” Hotch says with an audible scowl, and the two women couldn’t disagree more.

 

**24.3 minutes**

Rescue isn’t going to arrive for another five fucking hours.

“Well, nothing we can do but wait,” Hotch says sensibly. JJ nods along with him, despite sadly looking down at the picture of her son smiling up at her from her lock-screen. Emily doesn’t say anything, but she thanks God for mothers and birthdays and the bottle of single malt tucked neatly in her go-bag.

“It’s not so bad,” Reid is saying in the other elevator. “I mean, the chances of us hurtling to our deaths as the cables snap is slim—”

“New rule,” Rossi cuts in, holding up the flashlight. “Only the person holding this gets to talk. And you don’t get to hold this.”

“But—” Reid begins.

Rossi shushes him.

“I don’t think—” Reid tries again, frowning this time.

Rossi holds up a single finger. Then the flashlight. Then he smiles. Reid closes his mouth with a snap.

“Oh cool, it works,” Morgan says. “Hey, do you think that will—”

Rossi shushes him.

 

**51 minutes**

The silence is possibly worse than Reid’s death-rambling. And what’s even worse than the silence is the absolutely fucking _aggravating_ knowledge that Reid is quietly existing in the corner of the elevator, just being sad and awkward and sad and—

“Here,” Rossi says, caving, and passes Reid the flashlight. He takes it warily. Morgan lifts his head and raises an eyebrow at them both. “Entertain us. Recite a book or something. Just, god, anything.”

Reid hums thoughtfully and then smiles.

Rossi, very suddenly, remembers the prank wars. He dearly regrets giving up the flashlight.

“I Spy with my little eye something beginning with V,” Reid says with a gleeful bounce on the back of his heels.

Rossi and Morgan look around the elevator suspiciously.

“No hints,” Reid adds.

Goddamnit.

 

**90 minutes**

Emily pulls the bottle of whiskey out of her bag and swooshes it in the awkward quiet. The _tap tap tap bloop_ of the mobile game JJ is playing pauses as she looks up, her face illuminated a pretty shade of Fruit Ninja blue. “We _are_ off duty,” Emily says expectantly.

Hotch shakes his head.

Emily sighs, but doesn’t put it away. She’s optimistic.

 

**98 minutes**

“Vulpix!” Morgan shouts, throwing his hands in the air. “Is it a Vulpix?”

“What’s a Vulpix?” Reid and Rossi ask as one.

“A Pokemon,” Morgan answers, which neither of the other two consider a real answer at all. “Seriously, man, I have no fucking idea. Nothing in here starts with V!”

“Yes, it does,” Reid says with a sniff. “What’s a Pokemon?”

_Please crash to the ground and kill me,_ Rossi prays to the elevator. Or the elevator god. Or just God in general. Whoever is listening, really. _Please, please, please…_

 

**104 minutes**

Emily gives in and unseals the single malt with a _crick_ of the cap.

“Not a good idea,” Hotch warns her. JJ accepts the bottle and takes a mouthful, coughing slightly before passing it back.

“Oh, we’re off duty,” Emily says, taking her own swig. “And we’ve got hours left in here, Hotch, _hours_.”

Hotch just smiles, rearranges his suit jacket pillow, and waits for the inevitable.

 

**124 minutes**

“I need to pee,” Emily says sullenly.

Hotch is smug.

 

**130 minutes**

“Violence,” Rossi suggests.

“What the fuck, Dave?” Morgan says, deadpan. “How can you see violence?”

“Like this,” Reid says, and taps his foot against Morgan’s leg. They’re sprawled on the floor, lanky enough that their knees are folded up the wall of the car, and Rossi is seriously considering telling them both to stop hogging the goddamn space because he only has a corner and his legs are cramping. “But no.”

“Bullshit,” Morgan snaps. “You can’t _see_ violence. It’s called ‘I Spy’, not ‘I Abstract Concept’.”

Rossi wonders how many times beating his head against the door it will take him to knock himself out until they’re rescued.

 

**135.5 minutes**

Emily wiggles.

Emily wiggles again.

“Still need to pee?” JJ asks sympathetically, patting her on the knee.

Hotch sighs and lowers the book he’s reading using his cell’s flashlight. “Well,” he says, neatly bookmarking the page and replacing it in his bag. “There’s really one option.”

“What’s that?” Emily asks nervously, peering around the tiny space. They’re basically shoulder to shoulder. There’s no corners _to_ designate as _that_ corner.

He picks up the bottle and takes a long swallow. “Guess we have to finish the whiskey.”

 

**150.8 minutes**

“Vagina?” Morgan is still trying. Reid doesn’t dignify that with an answer.

Three feet to the right, JJ is bored. The battery of her cell has finally given out on her after she’d attempted yet another game of Fruit Ninja and she misses her family. She picks up the bottle and says slowly, with a wicked smile, “Never have I ever—”

Emily grins.

Hotch worries.

 

**162 minutes**

“Say Uncle,” Morgan demands, and Reid whimpers plaintively from within the headlock the other man has him in. “Say it, Reid!”

“Unffle,” is the muffled reply.

“Now say, ‘I think we should play a new game’.”

There’s silence. Morgan _tsks_. “Iffnnewgum,” says Morgan’s armpit.

It had only taken two minutes to break him. “I’m so glad you joined us and not the CIA,” Rossi says dryly as Morgan releases the ruffled and shell-shocked looking agent. “You’d never withstand torture.”

Sulking, Reid mutters, “Actually, no one withstands torture. Standard procedure is—”

“What was the word, anyway?” Morgan asks, just to cut him off.

Blinking owlishly, Reid stares at him. “You have to _guess_ ,” he says finally, and Morgan’s face darkens. “You guys are terrible at this game.”

“I bet the others are having a lovely time,” Rossi says to no one. “Just lovely. They’re all so _sensible_ over there.” It’s not fair.

Why does _Hotch_ get all the normal people?

 

**165.9 minutes**

“Never have I ever deliberately and wilfully caused a public commotion.” Hotch doesn’t quite appear to get the point of this game.

“Seriously, Aaron?” says Emily, who _does_ get the point of the game, as well as probably the lion’s share of the whiskey too. “You’re not supposed to say things like that.”

“But it’s something that I would feel uncomfortable admitting to in professional discourse,” Hotch disagrees, running his finger around the lip of the bottle absently. He’s not only finally taken his jacket off, but also loosened his tie _and_ the top button of his shirt. It’s a bizarre relief to see, because JJ had been starting to wonder if the man hadn’t noticed how unbearably warm it had gotten in the elevator. Her and Emily had already shed their outfits right down to their camisoles, and they were still sweating. “Isn’t that the point?”

“Something a little more risqué, perhaps,” suggests JJ gently. “Like ‘Never have I ever been naked in public’, for example.”

Emily drinks.

After a beat, Hotch does too.

JJ and Emily stare at him. “What?” he says innocently. “I was a teenager too, once.”

Emily mutters, “I don’t believe you,” but she’s smiling.

 

**173.2 minutes**

“Do you remember the sky?” Rossi asks the wall, laying with his nose pressed to the cool steel in lieu of brushing up against the comfortable tangle of agents in the centre of the elevator. Reid is asleep, snoring delicately with his head pillowed on Morgan’s chest. They’re cuddling, and Rossi had taken _so many photos_ before his cell had died from the pure delight of the moment.

Morgan doesn’t seem worried about the photos that are totally not going to be blown up and pasted all over Garcia’s lair as soon as she gets hold of them. He just snuggles Reid back and says, “My grandpa once told me stories about the sky. Said it was blue as a… shit, man, I don’t even remember anything blue. I was born in this elevator. I guess I’ll probably die in this elevator.”

Rossi sniggers but he doesn’t have the heart to keep going. They lapse back into silence.

Reid whimpers slightly in his sleep, and Morgan automatically makes a soothing _shhsh_ noise and rubs his shoulder. Absently, Rossi thinks that Morgan will make a brilliant Dad one day.

“Hey, Dave?” Morgan is whispering intently, and Rossi wonders if this is the part of their slow descent into madness where they spill all their hopes and dreams and fears and— “What do you think his ‘I Spy’ word was?”

Goddamnit.

 

**178 minutes**

“I need to use the bathroom,” Hotch says, and JJ makes a miserable noise of agreement. They all look at the semi-empty bottle. “But not that badly.”

Unanimously, they decide to see if they can wait it out.

It’s Emily’s turn. “Never have I ever slept with a co-worker.” Hotch’s eyebrow lifts at this admission, and JJ drinks.

“JJ!” he barks, scandalized. She almost jumps out of her skin, smiling sheepishly at him while simultaneously trying to wink at Emily.

Emily zeros in on that, the bottle hitting the ground with a _clunk_ that’s more empty than full. “Oh my god, Reid,” she says gleefully, and both JJ and Hotch make identical squeaks of horror.

“No!” JJ yelps, and hiccups. “God, jeez, no…” She trails off, narrowing her eyes, her nose scrunching. “Do you think he’s even…?”

Hotch drains the rest of the alcohol, his expression haggard.

 

**200 minutes**

“We’ve been in here for two-hundred minutes,” Reid says.

“How do you know that?” Morgan raises his head and blinks blearily. Their flashlight flickers. Someone groans, probably Rossi. “You were asleep for some of it.”

Reid shrugs. Silence returns.

Rossi breaks it. “I Spy…”

 

**226.8 minutes**

The game has devolved.

“Favourite colour?” JJ asks, and Emily makes a disappointed noise at how _dull_ that is before answering with a pert, and not unexpected, _black_.

“Blue,” says Hotch, and smiles wistfully. JJ wonders why but doesn’t ask, because it’s a shy, secret smile and entirely private.

Emily’s turn to ask now, and she goes with: “Worst fear?” JJ bets she only asked it to make sure none of them asked her that question.

There’s a beat of silence, before they both answer _dying_. Neither of them know it, although both suspect, that the reasons for their respective answers are identical. They’re far too needed here to be wasting time with dying.

Hotch puzzles over his turn for long enough that Emily flicks the dying flashlight on to see if he’s fallen asleep. He hasn’t.

“What are you most grateful for?” he asks gently, and it’s oddly sentimental and feels like a question that can really only be asked in a tiny, stifling hot elevator car while waiting to be rescued.

“My family,” JJ says immediately, and thinks of Henry.

“My friends,” says Emily quietly, and thinks of being lonely.

Hotch murmurs, “My team,” and that’s when rescue arrives.

 

**244.4 minutes**

“Morgan, I swear to god, get the fuck out of my way before I shoot you.” Rossi cranes forward to get a lungful of the sweet, sweet air rushing through the space they’ve cracked open in the doors just enough for them to boost each other out. Faces peer back through at them, confused by the hold-up.

“We’re not leaving this elevator,” Morgan begins with a growl, and Rossi wonders if the man has actually fucking snapped, “until Reid tells us what his word was!”

Silence. Rossi hears a deadpan, _what the fuck, Derek_ , from outside the elevator that sounds suspiciously like Emily.

Reid blinks. “Tell him,” Rossi demands, turning on the other agent. “Tell him now!”

“But that’s not how you play the game,” Reid says, setting his jaw into a stubborn line. “And I’m not telling you. You have to _guess_.”

Morgan waves his finger at Reid, going _ah ah ah_ with a wild look in his eyes. “I’ve been in this elevator for four hours, man,” he whispers intently.

“And six minutes,” Reid adds, helpfully. Rossi kicks him.

“I’ve come too far to quit now! What. Starts. With. V?”

Reid takes a breath. And another. And opens his mouth.

“No hints.”

Goddamnit.

**Author's Note:**

> **Edited August, 2017.**


End file.
